


The Mysterious Death

by RiddlerChic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiddlerChic/pseuds/RiddlerChic
Summary: “I still find it hard to believe you have a zero budget agreement with Angelo.”"Quite unnecessary but he insists."





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was just for a school thing. But. I'm really proud of it so I wanted to share.

The chime of the restaurant door rang in John’s ear. The scent of Angelo’s cooking wafted throughout the room and to the pair sitting in the booth.

            “I still find it hard to believe you have a zero **budget** agreement with Angelo.” John grunts, looking up from the menu at the detective sitting across from him. Sherlock's lips twitch, the only indication he heard him, his eyes still on the list of food items in front of him.

            "Quite unnecessary, but he insists." Is all Sherlock says before silence surrounds them again and John just sighs, as he looks back at his menu. He can’t decide on anything, and he doubts Sherlock is actually going to eat. _Food **deprivation**. It’s not a big deal, John. _ John scowls at the memory, furrowing his eyebrows.

            “Something troubling you, John?” Sherlock doesn’t even look up from his menu as he speakss, only enhancing John's irritation. Sherlock’s **extraneous** ability to notice even the tiniest bit thing wrong was extraordinarily discomforting to John.

            “No.” John answered, glancing up at Sherlock with narrowed eyes. “I’m fine, Sherlock.” There was no response, so John looked back to his menu.

            “Why are you lying?”

            John looked up to be met with the stormy blue eyes of the detective across from him. John didn’t answer at first, staring at Sherlock as he thought of what to say. Before he could say anything, however, Angelo came over with a bottle of wine.

            “Thank you, Angelo.” Sherlock gave the man a small smile and Angelo nodded, setting the wine on the table, along with two wine glasses. A shout sounded from the kitchen, and the male hurried off, presumably to fix a mistake on an order.

            It seemed as if Sherlock’s patience had reached maximum **capacity** , as the detective’s eyes trained on John with a heated glare.

            “John. I will only ask one more time.” Sherlock said slowly, folding his hands on the table. “Why are you lying?”

            “I-I am _not_ lying.” John stammered, looking back to his menu. “Do you think Angelo has a **surplus** of pasta?” His attempt to change the subject was **curtailed** by Sherlock.

            “You are lying and it’s very bothersome.” The detective sat forward in his seat, eyeing John closely. “And you know I disapprove of bothersome situations.” John knew well.

            “Alright. You caught me.” John sighed, eyes still on his menu. “I’m lying. What now? I suppose you want me to tell you what’s troubling me?”

            “Of course.” Sherlock grinned slightly, tilting his head. “I’m so glad you understand.” There was a **massive** amount of space between them, but John felt like Sherlock was too close. His anxiety kicked in, causing him to move his chair back from the table ever so slightly.

            Sherlock noticed and immediately frowned, his chin lowering. The silence that passed between them was unbearable to the detective.

            John cleared his throat and looked up at Sherlock with an expression of irritation. That was a little more than shocking to Sherlock, who instantly became well-aware of the fact that John had been in the military.

            “If it’s something you wish to keep yourself, I am very understanding. I have plenty of secrets I keep from y –“ Sherlock’s phone went off in the middle of his sentence, and the detective’s hand immediately went to his pocket. “Yes? Ah, Lestrade. Wonderful! Well, obviously not the murder. Of course it’s **essential**. It’s a murder! Yes, yes. John and I will be there shortly.”

            John watched Sherlock hang up the phone and shove it back into his pocket. Raising an eyebrow, John set his menu down on the tabletop and folded his hands over one another.

            “A murder?” He inquired with a tilt of his head. Sherlock nodded, seemingly excited. They hadn’t even ate a **morsel** and already they were leaving!

            “Yes. Right outside our flat.” His smile didn’t falter, but his shoulders did slump a little. “On our front doorstep.”

            “How intriguing.” John muttered with a shake of his head. “I suppose this means we must leave without ordering?”

            “I wasn’t going to eat anyways. I’ll make you something at the flat, alright John?” Sherlock gave a small smile when John nodded. “Then let’s be off! I’ll leave Angelo a tip. You go on and head out.”

            John sighed, standing up and shrugging his coat on, before heading towards the door. Of course, on the day he was expecting them to finally discuss the problems Sherlock has, there’s a murder.

            And why in the bloody hell would there be a murder on their doorstep?

 

 

* * *

 

           

 

            John eyed the body with distaste. It was a woman, mid-twenties, Sherlock had said. How Sherlock could tell from just looking at her, John had no clue.

            The **humongous** puddle of blood surrounding her head was beginning to dry on the cement, turning a darker, wine colored red than the crimson pooling from the wound.

            “There was hardly any struggle.” Sherlock pointed out, searching through the woman’s **bulky** coat. “As if she was expecting it.”

            “Perhaps it was a **penalty**?” One of the policemen offered, but Sherlock only gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

            “The impact point from the bullet is at the base of her skull. No trace of it exiting.” John watched Sherlock with amazement, tilting his head. Sherlock continued, inspecting the small bruises on the woman’s wrists. “No struggle, but she did try to hide. Perhaps she tried to use our flat as protection. She would have been able to, if it wasn’t for the killer’s swift agility.”

            “How do you know the killer is agile?” Lestrade pressed, eyeing Sherlock with astonishment. Of course, the question was irrelevant to Sherlock, who simply scowled and shook his head.

            “This woman is young. No obvious evidence of health issues. She should have been able to outrun a person with normal stamina. The bruises on her wrists are obvious signs of someone grabbing her roughly and pulling her.”

            “Obvious? I would hardly call those obvious!” A policeman exclaimed, looking at Sherlock quizzically. “Not all of us can see what you can, you know!”

            John snickered and turned his head away, crossing his arms. He tried to **duplicate** his expression from before, but was failing immensely.

            “Time is **dwindling**. The killer is on the loose.” Sherlock stood up from his crouch and looked at John with a grin. And the grin only **increased** when Lestrade let out a groan.

            “Then let’s catch them before something else goes wrong.” John said with a glance at Lestrade. Sherlock Holmes. The Annoying Detective.

            Perfect blog name.

**Author's Note:**

> I might possibly make this into an actual. Like. Multichapter fic. But only if people want  
> So. Comment if you want me to write more! Kudos and feedback are appreaciated!


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